Fighting on the Outside
by Kittiesrock25
Summary: It's been a long time since the Rebellion ended, and one of his 'episodes'. Until he gets set off again, by something neither of them expected. And Peeta might never be able to forgive himself for almost murdering Katniss. For the second time.
1. Chapter 1

Fighting on the Outside

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><p>The past years have changed us. Made us stronger in one way, yet much weaker in another. It's kind of funny because when you think about it, the best thing that ever happened to me came from the worst. Peeta Mellark. The name sends shivers up my back when I say it in full form, because I'm sent back to the Reaping, the monumental day that secured our futures. And, of course, the nightmares.<p>

Every night I wake up, feeling terrified, sweating, screaming, crying. All from the nightmares, and he knows, because he wakes up every time. And while I sit there, screaming like I'm dying, he holds me, and I can't be more grateful. He tries to fight his, I know, because he seems frustrated whenever I wake up to him thrashing or screaming, but I want him to let it out. I want it to be my turn to comfort him, to provide some kind of solace because he's there for me every single time.

Now, as he's sitting on the couch with his arm around me, staring at the TV but not really watching it, I think of the word 'our'. Truly, it means more than it lets on. Yes, it does certainly mean to be owned by two or more people. But it also means to be connected, linked to one person, their entwined soul to be 'ours' forever. And I can't help but take for granted that I have that.

Overwhelmed with the sudden feeling of hunger, the food kind, I raise my chin, and stare right at Peeta. He tilts his face down to look me in the eye, and his smile is barely contained. It was our unwritten game. Whoever smiled first just... lost. No consequences, but it made us some sort of a normal couple and I knew we needed that.

And then my next words throw us for a loop as I didn't realize that Peeta could be set off at random, bizarre times. Usually, he could ride it out, grip anything around him as the memories arrive. Ones of me being a mutt. Ones of me almost dying at his hands, and especially ones about the arena. Both arenas. But of course, he stays strong and I guessed I was too naive to notice that sometimes he can't be. The venom has very twisted- but effective- ways of working your mind. I've experienced it myself.

"Peeta," I say in a sing-song voice, almost cracking a smile, and he gives in, grinning at me. "Yes, Katniss?" he replies, raising an eyebrow in what could be a teasing manner. I laugh, and lightly slap his arm before falling back into the couch with fake drama. "I'm hungry," I complained, "Can you get me some of the bread from yesterday?"

The smile vanishes. Gone, just like that. And his arm leaves my shoulder, as well, but I'm not left without his touch as his pins my throat to the couch, and in my utter surprise I let out a shriek. I was so confused. This was such an odd thing to get mad about. Was he talking about that time, when we were kids? Or the cave? Was he joking, or was this a repeat of District 13, only now with no injections to save me?

It turns out I'm in no luck today, as Peeta seems to go with número dos. As he holds my throat, his face gets close to mine, a look of utter rage on his face, complete with an awful sneer that scares me because I know it isn't Peeta that's doing this. And he can't control himself.

"That's all you've ever wanted from me, isn't it? Food? I should have known. What have you ever done for me? You mutt!" he spits the last word like it's poison, and I start to feel the pressure on my throat, and even though I fight, he's stronger than me, and I know I have about 10 seconds. Arguing, I know, holds no effect, because it would just offend and anger him more than he is, bringing my death closer.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die, mutt!" he growls at me and just as flecks of black start to appear in my vision and my breath is completely cut off, I hear the door open, and I could have never been that happy to see Haymitch. He calls out our names a couple of times, and when no answer comes from me or Peeta, he wanders through our house to the living room, and when he sees us, his eyes widen. And then he springs.

He barrels over Peeta, knocking his grip on my throat off as they both tumble to the floor. I inhale a huge gasp of breath, one by one as I distantly hear their tussle. I hear cries and cusses, but all I can concentrate on is the spots. They're getting bigger, and I can't see but I need to, to see if they're alright but I can't, because that's when I fade into the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Fighting on the Outside, Chapter 1

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><p>I wake up, and it's not a pleasant awaken. First I scream, pretty loud, and it takes awhile for the doctors to calm me, and I come very close to being injected. And then I realize doctors belong at hospitals, and that was where I was. I hadn't thought my injuries to be that bad, even though I did black out. Even though the hospital and the staff and the machines hooked up to me make me awfully uncomfortable, it isn't the worst worry on my mind.<p>

Peeta. Haymitch. Were they alright? Certainly, one of them was ok or I wouldn't be here. I would be on the couch, dying because of my neck being crushed.

Peeta. Why'd he have a relapse? I thought they were only flashbacks and nightmares now. I thought he could control them, but I know, with shame, that I'm expecting too much. We had just gotten finished with a war, for gosh sakes, where he was tortured and brainwashed, and I expect him to be alright? Like the Peeta before the games? Yea right. I'm fooling only myself.

"Where is he." it doesn't come out as a question. Because it isn't. It's a straight-out demand and I need to know the answer. The nurse who had been adjusting a machine hooked up to my arm looked up at me, with a huge, unrealistic smile.

"He's fine. Just being kept under watch. We had thought the venom to be gone, but we hadn't been certain and it was a difficult call to make. We think he will be ok in a few days. He still doesn't fully... recall the fact that you are not a mutt. I'm sorry, miss." the words hurt, but I expected them to, and I put on a blank expression, and just nod. The nurse continues to fuss with the wires before finally leaving me to peace.

And I think. That whole time, I sit there and think. About life. About love. About my love. About what I could've done to help him. About why I couldn't. My questions remain unanswered, and with each passing moment I'm desperate to see Peeta but terrified at the same time. What if he's never the same? I'll still love him, of course, but who would be my comfort pillow? As selfish as it sounded, I needed Peeta to be there for me. But, I promised myself, you're there for him, too.

And so for several days, I sit and wait, as nurses and doctors pass through the room, putting food through my tube because I can't pass it through my throat yet, cleaning me, checking my wound and if it was healing. It was.

And then finally, I know he's going to be ok. Back to normal. Whatever normal may mean to me. Never once, have I ever used normal to describe my life. But if there had to be a normal, it would most certainly be Peeta. They told me he would have to visit me because I can't leave yet, and I'm scared. Scared he might refuse or go on a rampage again, because nobody had told me about how he was doing for awhile, even though I asked every day. Scared, because I don't want him to see me like this, especially if he is back to normal Peeta again.

The door opens at 12'OClock sharp, and I see the faces of the guards first. And then there's a flash of blonde, and I want to scream out his name, tell him I'm here, I'm ok. But that may set him off and I'm not willing to risk it.

So then finally the guards move away, and I see him. He's skinnier and more tired looking, but after a quick sweep of him with my eyes I can just tell he's normal Peeta, and I sigh in relief. His chin's down, and he's staring at the ground, but I just want him to look up because I want him to know that I'm sorry I set him off like that. And I know that it's my fault. But he just won't look up, until I softly say his name.

He does look up, but when he does I'm devastated. His eyes are wet with tears, and I'm angry because he shouldn't cry. He should get over here and hold me so I can apologize, and tell him I love him and that I promise it will never happen, ever again.

"Come here, Peeta," I say softly and he slowly obliges, taking each step like it hurts. And maybe it does. I don't know what they did to him back there, and I won't ask. Then he's right next to me, and he flinched whenever I tug on his hand so he'll sit on his knees where I can hold his hand and talk to him. But it doesn't seem like that will happen anytime soon.

"Peeta, it's ok," I say softly, trying to catch his eyes. But he won't look at me. Suddenly, the white, uncreative floor of the hospital is much more interesting than me. As I hold back a sigh of frustration when no reply comes, I continue, "I know you're angry at me, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that to you."

I've never seen such reproach in his eyes as they snap up to meet mine. They look disgusted, angry, and for a second I think I've set him off again until I realize his eyes are still blue. And the tears fill his eyes again, and he's too flustered to say anything for a moment and the guards must be worried because both take a tentative step forward before Peeta finally spits out some words.

"You're sorry?" I've never heard his voice this angry and disgusted, and now I'm not sure whether or not he's set off before he keeps talking. "I almost killed you for a second time and you're sorry? You think I'm angry at you because I almost committed a murder? I- I can't believe you!" that's when I realize his anger isn't directed at me. It's at himself.

"Shh," I say, trying to calm him down without touching him, "It's not your fault. It's that stupid venom. It just had some unexpected leftovers, that's all. You're fine now. I'm fine. We'll be outta here in no ti-"

"Don't lie to me, Katniss," his words are harsh. "I know you can't even eat normally anymore. I know you still have at least another 5 days in here." unfortunately, I know he's right. I have a minimum of 4 or 5 more days here, and then they want me for observation. Which might make my stay up to another week.

Just as I'm about to say something, Peeta sighs, and backs up slowly. I instinctively reach out for him, and I wince as I feel a needle shift inside my arm. Why is life so unfair to him? The world can make my life heck and I wouldn't care as long as he was happy. But now he can't even have that.

"Guards, I want to go back to my room," he declares, eyes never leaving mine. I blink at him, shocked and slightly hurt. He wants to leave already? The guards also seem shocked but after a moment of shock they immediately comply with his wishes and I catch the last glimpse of the boy with the bread leaving the room, and I sigh, wishing he was never hijacked.


End file.
